Remember Me
by Princess Corkey
Summary: Quidditch is the only thing on Oliver Wood's mind until he reconnects with an old friend. Will they stay in each other's lives this time, or will the secrets Katie wants to forget tear them apart?
1. Chapter 1

Fame did not come naturally to Oliver Wood.

Quidditch was his passion and always had been. It was his life, his drive, and (as far as he was presently concerned) his purpose in life. He loved flying, he loved playing, and he loved feeling as though nothing in the world could break his focus or bring him down to the ground.

What he did not love were reporters.

"Just be yourself!" one of his teammates would inevitably advise him. In response to this, Armand Hallfield, captain of Puddlemere United, would scoff and shake his head, indicating that Oliver should, in fact, be anyone but himself at press time.

At this moment, Oliver was the last in the sky after a long and hellish match against the Hollyhead Harpies. Puddlemere had won the game by a hair, but the Harpies had been tough opponents, and Oliver was exhausted. The last thing he was prepared to face was the tangle of reporters who had already ensnared his teammates.

The roaring of the crowd was dying down now that they victors had taken their customary lap around the stadium, and witches and wizards were flocking to the middle of the field, quills and parchment in hand.

"Oliver Wood!" a middle aged balding man cried out, rushing towards his broom with a QuickNotes Quill trailing after him. "How does it feel to be named Witch Weekly's eligible bachelor of the year?"

Oliver fought hard against the urge to roll his eyes. It annoyed him when they skipped past asking about the game completely.

"Mister Wood!" piped up a young-ish, and not unattractive, blonde witch. She was small, but she had pushed past the others in a futile attempt to grab his attention. "What is your response to the rumors that you are dating Tornado's seeker Genevieve Greene?"

At this, Oliver could no longer resist an eye roll. By this time, he had reached the ground, and someone had handed him a towel. He wiped his face in a strategic effort to hide his annoyance.

Oliver wanted to throw down his towel and growl at them that he didn't give a damn about Witch Weekly or what they thought of him, and that the idea of dating Gen Greene was hysterical, as he had just had dinner at her house the other night and got along swimmingly with her girlfriend Astrid. However, seeing as how Witch Weekly's readership consisted of a great portion of his fans, as well as the fact that Gen had expressed to those close to her that she was not yet ready to divulge the nature of her relationship to the public, this is not what he did.

What he did do was take a deep breath, plaster on a tight smile, and reply calmly. "I appreciate the support that Witch Weekly has always given me. Their kind words are very flattering. As for Ms. Greene, I consider her a good friend and nothing more."

After enduring another round of questions, Oliver was able to escape to the sanctuary that was the Puddlemere United locker room. He practically hurled himself through the door and didn't slow down until he reached the showers.

"Nice catch there at the end, Wood."

Oliver nodded in response to the compliment, which came from one of Puddlemere's beaters, Andrew Grove. "You were relentless out there," Oliver complimented his teammate in return. Andrew grinned. Oliver rarely issued compliments, and they were never undeserved.

"Wood!" another teammate called out from around a corner. Oliver knew it to be Karliah George, their seeker. "You coming for drinks tonight? Armand is buying!" This earned a signature snort from Armand, who had made no such agreement.

Oliver, for the first time since returning to the earth, smiled. "I would," he answered honestly, "but I have a wedding to attend tonight."

"Who's getting hitched?" Andrew asked, interested. Oliver's teammates were of the nearly accurate assumption that his social circle did not extend past themselves.

"Some of my old Gryffindor teammates," Oliver explained. "Haven't seen them in a while, but I promised I'd be there." The last time he had seen George and Angelina had been when he had attended Fred Weasley's funeral. It had been a solemn affair, but George had chosen that occasion to announce his engagement, declaring, rightfully, that it's what Fred would have wanted. That had been two years ago, and the pair was finally tying the knot.

Showering quickly, Oliver apparated home long enough only to change again and run a comb through his hair. The match had run long, and he was nearly running late by the time he found himself at the Burrow, a place he had only been to a few times in the past, but that always instilled in him the strangest feeling of coming home.

The first to notice him was Charlie Weasley.

"Wood!" Charlie called out, waving him over and thrusting a drink into his hand, which Oliver was more than happy to accept. "Glad you could make it!"

Oliver smiled. Charlie was the first Weasley he had ever met. He had been his captain during the first year he played quidditch, and as such had been his hero for some time after that. Oliver's opposite, Charlie was loud and always ready for a good time, and Oliver had remained fond of him throughout the years.

"Drink up," Charlie advised. "Mum says we have to take our seats soon."

Oliver did as he was told, downing whatever strong drink Charlie had presented him with without question. There was meaningless chatter for a few moments, and then an announcement was made that the ceremony would begin shortly.

Oliver decided that it was a lovely ceremony, if one were into that sort of thing, which he wasn't. Still, George and Angelina were clearly very deeply in love, and for the briefest moment he felt a small pang of jealousy. It was something he had been noticing lately, and though rare, the feeling was nearly overwhelming for the briefest of instances. These moments were easy for Oliver to brush aside, however. Quidditch kept him busy, and any time he attempted to maintain a relationship, it always seemed to get in the way of his career. These relationships always ended before they ever truly began.

Before Oliver knew it (he found his thoughts difficult to keep track of, and his mind wandered throughout the ceremony), George and Angelina were kissing, and the reception began.

Oliver stood and wandered slowly towards the end of a growing line of people waiting to congratulate the newlyweds. His thoughts still wandering, he almost didn't see her until she was right in front of him.

"Ollie!" she exclaimed, and Oliver cringed. He opened his mouth to express his displeasure with the unfortunately fitting nickname, but when he laid eyes on the girl in front of him, his mouth stayed open wordlessly.

Katie took advantage of Oliver's silence to throw her arms around him. When he did not reciprocate her hug, she took a step back and cleared her throat uncomfortably.

Oliver eyed the girl in front of him in shock. He recognized her voice, and the untameable mountain of strawberry curls in front of him could only belong to one person, but he still had trouble connecting the tiny tomboy he had known so long ago with the woman who now stood before him.

A brief but uncomfortable silence passed between them, and only after Katie cleared her throat again did Oliver realize that it was his turn to speak.

"Bell?" he stammered, surprise written on his face. "Katie," he corrected when she cocked her head at him, realizing that he was no longer her quidditch captain, rendering his use of her last name unnecessary. "I didn't even recognize you," he admitted lamely. "Come here."

He opened his arms, inviting her in for a hug. He had never particularly enjoyed hugs, but he felt guilty at ruining her original attempt, and he had to admit to himself that Katie had certainly never been his least favorite person to receive hugs from.

Katie grinned and hugged Oliver again. "I can't believe how long it's been!" she squealed. "I can't believe Ange and George are married, and you're playing for Puddlemere!"

Oliver smiled. He had always been extremely fond of Katie. During his time at Hogwarts, she was like a younger sister to him, though he would never have admitted to something so sentimental. Seeing her excitement brought back memories that he hadn't even realized he'd been missing.

"How about you?" Oliver asked, suddenly realizing that he had heard very little about her life since he'd last seen her. "What have you been up to?"

Katie didn't answer the question. "I'll get us some drinks," she bubbled, "and we'll catch up. I'll be right back!"

Katie bounded off, and Oliver turned around just in time to see that it was nearly his turn to speak to the happy couple. As the old woman in front of his hobbled off (not before informing Angelina with a wagging finger that she "had better not be pregnant"), Oliver stepped towards them and made to congratulate them, but he was interrupted immediately.

"Did you see the way she was smiling?" Angelina gushed to George, grinning wildly. George nodded enthusiastically.

"It's good to see her like this," he agreed. Noting the look of confusion on the face of Oliver, who thought they were speaking of the bitter old woman who had preceded him in line, George filled him in. "We haven't seen Katie this happy in ages," he explained.

"What do you mean?" he asked, suddenly worried. "Why not?"

George was about to respond when Katie returned, a glass of sparkling pumpkin juice in each hand. She offered one to Oliver before turning to Angelina and returning to her previous squealing.

"I am so happy for you two!" she half-shouted, perhaps having already had a drink before she had found Oliver. She threw her arms around both George and Angelina, squeezing them. "I love you both so much, and you absolutely deserve all the happiness in the world!"

Angelina smiled and, as Katie pulled back from their hug, squeezed her hand. "We've missed you around the shop," she told Katie. "We're so glad that you're here. Are you having a good time?"

"Oh, it was a lovely ceremony," Katie gushed. "And you look absolutely radiant! And I just ran into Oliver here," she added. "Of course I'm having a good time!"

Someone behind Katie cleared their throat, and Katie and Oliver excused themselves to avoid monopolizing their hosts. They claimed a small table at the back of the large tent that had been erected for the reception. Oliver noticed that Katie ingested nearly half of her drink before they had reached their seats and, shrugging internally, followed suit.

 _It's not like I'm going to get pissed off sparkling pumpkin juice,_ he reasoned with himself. _And it's a party, for Merlin's sake!_

"So what does Katie Bell do for a living?" Oliver asked with interest. Though he chose his friends with a great deal of caution, he cared deeply for those he had, and he was chastising himself internally for losing track of someone so close to his heart.

Katie laughed, and the sound reminded Oliver of the enchanted wind chimes that his mother always kept hanging outside the front door of his childhood home. "Very little of interest, I'm afraid," she responded, and though she forced an air of humor into the statement, Oliver felt uneasy about it. "I used to work at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, but the past few months I've been working as a housekeeper at The Three Broomsticks."

Something Angelina had said a few moments earlier struck a chord with Oliver. " _We've missed you around the shop,"_ she had said. He found it strange that she would leave a job working with her best friends (and he felt certain that George was a generous employer) for a housekeeping position. He opened his mouth to ask, perhaps a little boldly, why she had quit, but she beat him to the next topic.

"I go to your games sometimes," she admitted, blushing slightly. "As often as I can afford, actually."

"Why don't you ever stop to say hi?" he asked, unnerved by the fact that at any given time she might have been in the stands, watching him and then simply disappearing into the crowd.

"I never thought to," she said, her words dripping with dishonesty. As if punctuating her statement, Katie downed the rest of her drink in one gulp. Suddenly she grinned and turned a reckless gaze on Oliver, challenging him. Following her lead, Oliver finished the remainder of his drink as quickly as she had hers. She flashed him another smile and hurried off to fetch two more drinks.

 _What the hell is going on?"_ Oliver asked himself, shocked at the rapid change in Katie's demeanor. Bubbly and excited just a few moments ago, a perfect reminder of her childhood self, she had suddenly affected an air of aloof recklessness, similar to but somehow entirely unlike the daring adventuress he remembered.

Brushing off this unnerving question, if only because he had no answer for it, he attributed her strange behaviour to the jitters one experiences when attending a friend's wedding. Had he not himself felt the assumption looming in the air that, now that members of their group of friends had married, the rest would follow suit at any time? It gave him a feeling of impending doom, though he wasn't sure why, and he decided that Katie must be feeling it as well.

When she returned, Katie had two glasses, one per hand, and Oliver knew even before she reached him that they did not contain sparkling pumpkin juice. His assumption proved to be correct when she slid the glass of Firewhiskey across the table to him.

"Charlie owes me a favor," she told him with a mischievous wink, "Drink up."

Oliver did.

The rest of the night passed increasingly quickly with each drink he finished off. He remembered dancing with various women, but he always returned to Katie for a dance, another drink, or another increasingly slurred bout of conversation. He had the distinct impression, though not the memory to back it up, that George and Charlie had eagerly assisted both Katie and himself in becoming intoxicated.

When he awoke the next morning, the first sensation Oliver felt was that of the entire world suddenly blinking into existence and then back out again. This happened several more times before the world decided that it was, in fact, going to exist, and Oliver was finally able to open his eyes and begin the great journey of sitting up.

Memories trickled into his head slowly, but there was a very clear and defined point in the night after which he had no memories at all. He believed it to be the work of a Weasley. At this thought, he turned his head cautiously to the side, checking his bed for a guest.

Seeing no one, Oliver breathed a sigh of relief. This feeling, however, was short-lived, as consciousness finally began to turn on the necessary functions of his brain, and he finally noticed the sound of a shower running. His shower, to be more specific.

Lifting his comforter to check himself for clothing (and finding none), Oliver forcibly rolled himself out of his bed and in the general direction of his wardrobe. Suddenly noting the absence of the sound of running water, he hurriedly grabbed what he considered to be the bare minimum - a pair of boxer shorts - and dived back under his covers, hoping to pretend he was still asleep until he thought of something decent to say to the person that he knew was inevitably going to walk through the door.

Whether Katie knew Oliver was feigning sleep or just failed to care, the moment she entered the room he felt something being tossed onto his chest.

"Do this a lot, do you?"

Looking down at the foreign object, Oliver found it to be a hangover potion. As he uncapped the vial and swallowed its contents eagerly, Katie laughed. "Your potions cabinet was depressingly bare, but I found an abundance of these buggars."

There was a brief pause before Oliver finally dared to look up at Katie. She was standing near the foot of his bed, clad only in one of his towels. She smiled cheerily at him.

"Listen, I know it's a little silly at this point, but would you mind closing your eyes while I change?" she asked, and he followed her request. As she changed, she hummed a song that Oliver could almost, but not quite, remember having heard the night before.

"All finished," Katie said brightly after a moment. Oliver opened his eyes, and there she was again, standing before him once more. Now wearing the yellow dress she had sported the previous night, he noticed yet again how beautiful she had become since their time at Hogwarts, despite the fact that her wet curls now hung limply on her shoulders and her face was now sans cosmetics.

Then again, Oliver reminded himself, perhaps she had always been beautiful. Perhaps she had simply been too young for him to notice at the time.

"You're staring," Katie informed Oliver, who blinked at the realization.

"S-sorry," he stammered, and Kate shrugged, a bland smile on her face. Oliver's cheeks heated up, remembering again that they must have spent the night together. Still, Katie smiled, and Oliver forced himself to decide that if she wasn't ashamed, then neither would he be.

Unsure of what to say next, Oliver cleared his throat. "Want to get some breakfast?" he asked finally. Katie thought for a moment.

"Why?" she asked, and the question took Oliver by surprise.

"What do you mean, 'why'?" he asked stupidly.

"I mean, do you want to take me to breakfast, or do you feel like you're supposed to take me to breakfast?" she explained patiently, presenting Oliver with an unreadable facial expression.

She was challenging him, and he knew it. Frustration bubbled in him, but intrigue did as well. He wanted to answer correctly but, failing to see what the correct answer should be, he answered truthfully. "You're my mate, and I want to have breakfast with you."

Grinning once more, Katie nodded. "Alright then," she said. "Let me go dry my hair."

Oliver's flat was not far from Diagon Alley, and they opted to walk into town and have breakfast at Meriwether's, a small and often unnoticed cafe wedged in between some of the large shops.

Once they were seated, both with cups of tea in front of them, Oliver was suddenly at a loss for words. He had, of course, had one-night stands before, but they had never been with girls that he had any emotional attachment to, and they had certainly never been followed by breakfast.

"About last night," he began finally, and Katie rolled her eyes playfully. He paused. "What?"

She shook her head, smiling slightly. "Nothing, nothing," she giggled. "About last night?"

"I just thought perhaps we should discuss-" Oliver began again, feeling rather silly now. Katie let another giggle escape, and Oliver's speech was derailed again.

"I'm just trying to be a gentleman," he huffed.

Katie reached out and touched his hand. "And it's very sweet of you," she said gently. Then the humor returned to her eyes. "But there's nothing to worry about, Ollie." he cringed at the nickname again but allowed her to continue without interruption. "We're mates, like you said. Last night was a bit of fun, that's all." She grinned slyly at him at the last part, giving him the distinct impression that she remembered something about their "fun" that he was unable to recall. He suddenly regretted his previous night's intoxication even more than before.

"Just a bit of fun?" Oliver repeated cautiously. "And that's alright with you?"

Katie laughed fully this time. "Merlin, Oliver, I'm not expecting you to marry me," she joked. "You may be famous, but I think you're giving yourself a bit too much credit."

Oliver laughed, relaxing. If Katie could take their night together in stride, so could he.

Suddenly feeling as though he had never been so hungry in all his life, Oliver realized that he had probably skipped dinner the previous night, likely opting for more firewhiskey instead. He ordered a large breakfast, which Katie made multiple attempts to commandeer, despite having ordered three scones for herself. Their morning together passed pleasantly, and for the first time in quite some time, Oliver felt at ease with himself in a setting that was completely unrelated to quidditch.

 **AN: Hello, lovely readers! To be honest, I don't really know what this story is. It's another lovechild of sleep deprivation and my current lack of a creative outlet. I think that this will turn into a multi-chapter story, but in case it doesn't, I tried to give it enough of an "ending" to make it worth reading as a one-shot. Please check out some of my other stories if you get a chance, and the community that I just created! Reviews absolutely make my day (seriously, you don't understand how excited I get for every single review)!**


	2. Chapter 2

It had been exactly four days since Oliver had attended George and Angelina's wedding. He was aware of this fact because it reminded him that it had been exactly three days since he had seen Katie.

Thinking back to past one-night stands, Oliver could not remember ever feeling anxious about hearing from them again. Actually, that was not exactly true. In every circumstance, he had been worried that he _would_ hear from them again. With Katie, however, he grew more concerned by the day. This was not because he expected her to send him an owl, but rather because he had sent her one every day since their encounter, with no replies as of yet.

He was making a distinct effort not to seem like he was stalking her. His first owl, the day after they had woken up next to each other, stated merely that he had enjoyed their breakfast and hoped that they would do it again sometime.

The next day, hearing nothing, Oliver remembered again the worry that he had seen on the faces of George and Angelina. He decided to send Katie a second letter, letting her know that her friendship was important to him and he hoped she was doing well. He made sure to add what he hoped was a casual remark that if she ever needed anything, she should feel free to come to him.

His third owl, sent hurriedly before practice the present day, was a short note saying that he hoped to see her at a match soon, and it included season tickets to his matches.

Thankful that his long night of worrying was over and he now had Quidditch to take his mind off of the unexplained notion that it was somehow his responsibility to look after Katie now that they had reunited, Oliver threw himself into practice that day. In his element, perfectly executing every play, Oliver cleared his mind of strange, obsessive thoughts. He focused instead on flying, the thing that came more naturally to him than breathing.

When he touched down that afternoon, drenched in sweat, each of Oliver's teammates clapped him on the back. Armand nodded his approval, and Oliver thought he heard something in his captain's after-practice speech about Oliver's "model dedication", but Oliver forced himself to stay focused, not wanting his thoughts to return to the strange and confusing place they had been just a few hours before.

As the team trudged out of the locker room, Oliver saw none other than Charlie Weasley.

"Charlie!" Oliver called to Charlie, who was still approaching from across the field. His surprise at seeing Charlie here was second only to his pleasure. "I wasn't expecting to see you!" he added once Charlie was standing before him.

"I saw you practicing out there," Charlie said. "I know some people," he added in response to Oliver's quizzical look. "Anyway, I thought you could use a drink."

Oliver hesitated momentarily, remembering that the last time he had seen Charlie, his favorite Weasley had done everything in his power to cause Oliver to become more intoxicated than he could remember being in a very long time.

Charlie's good nature made it hard to stay angry at him, however, and Oliver shrugged it off. "Yeah, I could use a drink."

"Great," Charlie grinned. "We're going to The Three Broomsticks."

"But that's..." Oliver began, but quickly he realized that Charlie wasn't concerned with how far The Three Broomsticks was, nor with how many pubs were closer. "Charlie," he said in a warning tone.

"It'll be fun!" Charlie boomed, clapping Oliver on the back. "Just like old times at school, watching Madame Rosmerta waiting on tables and wishing we were old enough for her to notice us. Only now we are." At that, he gave Oliver a lewd wink, and they were off.

A few moments and a quick apparation later, they were standing in Hogsmeade, just outside the door to The Three Broomsticks, the scene of many of their respective Hogwarts shenanigans. It was raining here, and they hurried inside.

Seating themselves at the bar, Oliver and Charlie started off strong with several shots of firewhiskey before Charlie's less-than-subtle hinting combined with receding inhibitions prompted Oliver to finally ask the question he wanted to ask.

"Is Katie here?" he asked Madame Rosmerta as she was pouring Charlie another shot. He was already several ahead of Oliver, but he showed no signs of slowing down.

Madame Rosmerta shrugged, turning around to put the bottle away, knowing from experience that it needed to be out of Charlie's reach. "She doesn't work here anymore," she said casually.

Charlie appeared to sober slightly, his eyes darting towards Oliver.

"What? Since when?" Oliver asked, rather more bluntly than he had intended.

Madame Rosmerta narrowed her eyes. "Not that it's any of your business," she said sharply, but she hasn't shown up for work in three days. I sent an owl with her mail to her boyfriend's flat, and I let her know she needn't come back."

Oliver's jaw fell open, giving Charlie a moment to speak.

"Do you know the bloke? What's his name?" he asked. Charlie's normally cheerful demeanor had changed quickly, and had Oliver been less preoccupied, he might have been touched by how deeply Charlie, like all the members of the Weasley family, seemed to care for Katie.

Madame Rosmerta crossed her arms. "I may have fired the girl, but I'm not about to help a couple of drunk blokes stalk her," she huffed.

Charlie stood up angrily, and Oliver, sensing a bad outcome if the situation escalated, attempted to reword the inquiry.

"We're just worried about her," he explained, his eyes softening. Madame Rosmerta looked unconvinced. "She's a good friend, and we didn't know she was seeing anyone. We want to make sure she isn't in trouble."

Madame Rosmerta's eyes moved towards the floor briefly, betraying her thoughts. She, too, had given more than a passing thought to Katie's safety  
.

"His name is Roger," she said after a pause. "That's all I know about him."

"Thank you," Oliver said kindly.

"Make sure she's alright," Rosmerta concluded, attempting to keep the worry out of her voice.

Oliver nodded. "We will."

Oliver and Charlie decided to regroup back at the Burrow. Not wanting to worry Molly, however, who was thoroughly enjoying a day of babysitting her first grandchild, Victoire, they took their discussion outside.

"Maybe we're overthinking this," Oliver said hesitantly, as his increasing stress caused him to sober up more quickly than usual.

"She hasn't shown up for work in three days, Oliver," Charlie growled. "She missed dinner last night when she said she'd be there weeks ago. And now apparently she's hanging around Roger again!"

"Who is Roger?" Oliver asked, suddenly feeling very out of touch.

"You know him," Charlie insisted. "Roger Davies. He went to Hogwarts same time as you, same year as the twins."

As soon as Oliver heard his last name, he felt silly for not realizing sooner. Roger played Quidditch as well, and though he was only a reserve player, much to Oliver's delight, as their rivalry in school had been legendary, Oliver had been forced to suffer his company at more than one social event.

Oliver stopped dead in his tracks. "That prick?" he deadpanned. "Didn't he break up with Katie in her sixth year? What would she be doing with him?"

"There's a little more to that story," Charlie admitted. "After she finished school, Katie met back up with him a few times, and they started going out. But he was bad for her. They fought. She was constantly unhappy. George and Angelina did everything they could to convince her to leave him. A few times she packed up her stuff and stayed with Alicia, but it never took. I had to..." Charlie stopped abruptly. "Anyway, we got her away from him, but maybe-"

"Wait," Oliver interrupted. "You had to...what?"

"It isn't important," Charlie replied.

"It could be," Oliver said. "If she's hanging around with him again."

Charlie laughed. "I don't think that it's the solution you want."

"Why not?" Oliver pushed.

Charlie sighed heavily. "Because to get her away from him I had to confuse her even more. I don't know if I regret what I did, but I wish I could have thought of something better. It wasn't right."

"Charlie, what the hell did you do?" Oliver nearly yelled, his curiosity driving him mad.

"One night, when she was at Alicia's, I went over to talk to her. It was my "turn". I told her she deserved better, which I knew wouldn't work, because of course that's what everyone else had told her. Well anyway, she said that she didn't, and I insisted that he did. And then I...well, let's just say that I showed her that more than one person wanted her."

Oliver didn't know why, but he felt as though someone had punched him in the gut. "You...?" he began, but he couldn't finish. Charlie's message had been received, loud and clear.

"I know, you think I'm a horrible person," Charlie sighed again. "But you didn't see her. You didn't see how bad it was. He had this hold on her, and she couldn't break free. It wasn't healthy. It wasn't safe. She wasn't eating, she was drinking every day. I couldn't watch it anymore."

Oliver stood, dumbfounded, and tried to decide what to do with this information. Anger didn't seem like the appropriate emotion, but neither did anything else. He settled to try for a loose understanding of why Charlie did what he had done, and decided that even doing something that might be wrong was better than doing nothing at all.

So he told Charlie that. Charlie smiled weakly.

"So should we do something that might be wrong and barge into that prick's flat?" Charlie asked, sarcastically but at the same time completely willing to follow through.

"Absolutely."

And so a short while later, they found themselves standing on a doorstep that was unfamiliar to Oliver, but simply standing at this door seemed to make Charlie angry. Oliver knocked before Charlie had a chance to blast down the door.

The door opened a short moment later, and Oliver and Charlie were both faced with one of their least favorite people.

"Well, well, well," Roger said, leaning against his door frame. "She sent you to pick up her stuff _again_? And Oliver too, eh? Was it both of you at once or one at a time?"

Charlie lunged forward, but Oliver grabbed him. Though Charlie was significantly larger than Oliver, the feeling of being held back appeared to be enough to sedate him momentarily, and he settled for hulking over Roger, seething.

Oliver did his best to control his contempt. "Where's Katie?" he demanded.

"That's the million dollar question, isn't it?" he laughed, mockingly.

"Tell us where she is," Charlie barked at him.

Roger rolled his eyes. "Down boy," he scoffed. "She isn't here. She said she was going to some wedding a few days ago, and then she never came back." He shrugged, either acting as though this fact meant nothing to him or truly not caring. Either way, Oliver was growing angrier by the moment.

"What was she doing here?" he asked.

"She was staying here," Roger said in a tone that suggested he knew exactly what Oliver was afraid to hear. "Don't worry, we weren't dating," he paused, and then with a grin, finished, "just shagging. Anyway, she must have been by to pick up her mail, but I haven't seen her."

Oliver grappled with his conscience for a split-second longer, but he knew that punching Roger Davies, however satisfying it might be, wasn't going to help him find his friend. He grabbed Charlie's clenched arm and dragged him away.

As they left, Roger called after them. "Tell that bitch to come get her stuff!"

As much as Oliver would have liked to have smashed Roger's head in, the sound of the rock Charlie threw through the window was at least somewhat satisfying, as was the string of curses that Roger hurled after them as they made their escape.

 **AN: Okay, so I know this chapter is super dramatic, but you guys wanted more, and if this is going to be more than a one-shot, it can't always be happy endings. Don't worry, though, it will get better! In the meantime, the big question: Where is Katie?**

 **Thank you all so much for your reviews! They really, really made my day each time I opened my email and found one. They really inspire me to write, and to be honest, I had pretty much decided not to pursue this story until they started coming. They really mean a lot to me!**


	3. Chapter 3

After parting ways with Charlie late in the evening, with the strict understanding that the Weasleys would resume their search first thing in the morning, with Oliver joining them after Quidditch, Oliver went straight home. He had a match in the morning, and he knew that sleep wouldn't come easy.

After tossing and turning for a good hour, Oliver sat up with a huff. From her corner of the mattress, his cat Belinda, a calico with only one ear, meowed at him. The excitement of the last few days had quite disrupted her routine, and she had been making sure to let Oliver know that it was not welcome.

"Oh, bugger off," he snapped at her, but instantly he felt guilty. "Sorry," he mumbled, reaching across the bed for her. She stuck her nose in the air for a moment, ignoring him. Then, deciding he had been punished enough, allowed him to pet her.

Oliver sighed. Up until a few days ago, sleep had come easily to him. After a long day of practice, likely followed by a night of drinking, he would fall easily into bed and drift off within seconds. He wondered how much could possibly have changed in just a few short days.

He thought back to what Charlie had said about Katie's relationship with Roger. _He had this hold on her, and she couldn't break free. It wasn't healthy. It wasn't safe._ Was that what was happening to him? But why?

Or perhaps the entire Weasley household was feeling the same thing as he. Surely they were all lying awake in their beds, concerned for their friend. Perhaps this was normal, and Oliver was simply unaccustomed to it.

If this was friendship, he wasn't sure it was a good way to pass the time.

After roughly seven hours of drifting in and out of strange dreams, Oliver decided it was light enough out to give up on sleeping. As he slunk out of bed, however, he felt a grogginess that no hangover had ever matched.

A brisk shower did little to wake him up, and Oliver decided that exercise was the only cure. He pulled on clothes without paying any attention to them and headed out the door.

He had only intended to run a mile or so, but Oliver managed to lose all track of time, focusing only on the wind in his hair and the sun on his face. Running was the slightly more physically demanding version of flying, and although there was the obvious downside of never leaving the ground, Oliver still found it deeply fulfilling. Before he knew it, he was miles from home and fifteen minutes past when he should already have been at the Quidditch pitch, preparing for the match.

Armand, to say the least, was not thrilled at his tardiness. He barked something that Oliver didn't quite catch, but it made little difference, as this part of the Quidditch process was pure routine. He zoned out once again, and before he knew it, Oliver was grabbing his broom, the latest Nimbus model that he would wear out and have to replace before he even formed an attachment to it, and walking onto the pitch to the sound of a thousand Quidditch fans cheering and booing all at once.

The roar of the crowd in this moment always took Oliver back to his first professional match. He had been on the Puddlemere reserves for five months at that point, and when Harold Braxton had broken his leg after diving off his broom during the last match (a heroic move that had given their seeker the extra second he needed to catch the snitch before the Tornadoes scored what might have been a winning goal) Oliver was ready to step in.

He had held his head high in the locker room, his teammates had clapped him on the back and whispered words of encouragement right up until the moment they were on the pitch, when solid determination was the only expected expression. He had felt prepared right up until he heard the cheers, when suddenly his legs felt like jelly and his stomach floated up into his throat. He was certain, in that moment, that he wasn't good enough.

They had won that match.

By now, Oliver was used to the deafening roar of the crow as they entered the playing field opposite the other team. He was accustomed to the smell of the pitch, the buzz of excitement, even the flash of the cameras, however much he detested it. But in this moment, for reasons unknown to him, he felt that same quivering in his legs, that same airiness in his stomach that made it float up into his throat. He was not good enough.

He ignored it.

Someone made an announcement. More cameras flashed. Oliver couldn't focus on any of it. His eyes wandered the crowd as they often did during this time. Was he looking for someone? He wasn't sure. If he was, he had yet to find them, even after countless matches. This time, however, was different.

As he scanned Puddlemere's friends and family box, his eyes noting Karliah's husband and twin sons, Armand's wife, and Andrew's mother, his eyes found another familiar face, one that he had not expected to see. One that he had forgotten he even sent tickets to.

From the distance, it was clear that she could not tell his eyes were attempting to meet hers, but she was definitely looking his way. His stomach anchored itself, and his legs followed suit.

He had found her.

He had sent her the tickets, and she had come. While everyone else searched for her, Oliver had lured her back without even realizing it. He had brought her here, and after the game he would take her home.

The thought hit him like a brick. _Take her home?_ he asked himself. How could he take Katie home when Katie had no home?

The announcements were over. It was time to play Quidditch. Oliver glanced back over at Katie and shook his head gently to himself. After the game, he would find Katie and take her wherever she needed to go. He had found her, and that was what mattered. He was good enough.

They won the match.


	4. Chapter 4

Oliver hit the ground running the moment the match was over. The last play had been intense, and he was breathing hard as the crowd roared. Karliah was still taking her customary victory lap with the snitch, and the rest of the team hadn't yet taken notice of his descent.

He had only one thought in his head as he pushed past the throngs of reporters: he had to find Katie.

Racing to the friends and family box, he nearly missed her. In fact, he would have missed her had he not collided with her as she attempted to make a quick escape.

"Katie!" he cried, grabbing her shoulders to keep her from losing her balance. She grinned up at him.

"Congratulations, Ol" she gushed. "That was amazing! What a match!"

"Katie, where have you been?" he asked impatiently, ignoring her praise. "We've been worried about you!"

"We?" Katie asked, cocking her head to the side. In the midst of all the post-match chaos, it was impossible for Oliver to tell whether she truly didn't know who he meant, or whether this was an act. At the moment, it wasn't particularly important to him.

"Come with me," he said, taking her hand. She didn't pull away, but she did look down at his hand with such incredulity that it may as well have turned blue.

"I'm not a toddler," she said, her annoyance failing to cover her amusement.

"Then why do you keep wandering off?" Oliver countered, leading her down the steps.

It was at this moment that a camera flashed in their eyes, blinding them momentarily.

"Holy hell!" Oliver yelped as Katie shielded her face with her hands.

"Mr. Wood!" a reporter cried. "Is this your girlfriend?" Others echoed similar inquiries, but Oliver decided he wasn't going to stick around to hear any of them out. He tightened his grip on Katie's hand and practically dragged her to the locker room.

"I'm sorry about that," Oliver said to Katie once they were safe inside the locker room. Embarrassed, he dropped her hand.

"It was kind of exciting," Katie laughed. Then her face fell. "My picture isn't going to be in the paper, is it?"

Oliver grimaced. "It might be. I'm sorry," he said again.

Katie bit her lip. "It's alright."

There was an awkward silence for a moment until they were rescued from it by Oliver's teammates filing into the locker room. Their eyes were full of questions as they took a beat to look Katie up and down. Armand, naturally, spoke first.

"What the hell was that?" he asked, and though Oliver knew he didn't mean it unkindly, Katie blanched, worried that his concern for her had gotten Oliver into trouble.

"I was in a hurry," Oliver replied with a shrug. "I had to find someone."

"Looks like you found her," Karliah noted. She introduced herself to Katie with a friendly smile. The rest of the team followed suit.

"I'm Katie," she replied, warming to them. "Katie Bell."

"Not _the_ Katie Bell?" Andrew snorted, and Oliver shot him a warning look, but it was too late.

"Excuse me?" Katie asked, and Oliver groaned.

"Oh, nothing," Andrew said. "It's just that Wood here used to go on about you. Apparently he's never seen a Chaser so young with so much raw talent."

"Or one nearly so annoying!" Alma Westley, a Chaser herself, added, grinning at Oliver, who was eyeing the ceiling. "Wood just _loves_ to mention what a pain in his arse you were."

Katie laughed. "One of those things sounds about right," she said, her eyes sparkling.

Oliver glanced at her, and he wondered when she stopped playing Quidditch. In his early time with Puddlemere, when he was still getting to know the team, one of the few things he spoke about to them were his Hogwarts Quidditch days. His remarks about Katie's talent had been truthful. She was incredibly gifted at flying, and in her second year, at only twelve years old, she had performed better at tryouts than anyone else. The only reason Oliver had not recommended her as captain when he left was because Angelina was a more natural leader. His remarks about her ability to rile him up more than anyone else back in those days...well, those were equally true.

Looking at her now, he realized he had no idea why someone with as much skill on a broomstick as herself would be cleaning rooms at an inn instead of playing Quidditch. He resolved to ask her about it later.

Later. It was a word that hadn't really occurred to him until now. He had managed to snag Katie before she escaped the Quidditch pitch, but what was he going to do with her now? He certainly wasn't going to let her out of his sight, not when she was such an obvious flight risk. Would he take her back to his flat? To the Burrow? Would she even want him to take her anywhere? Katie was an adult, and as much as Oliver wanted to take care of her, there was the obvious possibility that she wasn't going to let him.

"Is it safe out there yet?" Oliver asked, interrupting the gentle teasing Katie had been enduring while he was lost in thought. Armand, the only one among them brave enough to risk a glance out, gave them an affirmative answer.

"We should pop in for dinner at the Burrow," Katie suggested, as if reading Oliver's mind. "I know it's rude to invite ourselves over, but Molly once told me I'm welcome 'any time', so that sounds like an invitation to me!"

Oliver was hit with the distinct impression that she was humoring him somehow, despite the fact that this plan had been her own suggestion. He found that he didn't enjoy the way Katie had him constantly second guessing himself, nor the way he wasn't quite sure of her motives. Still, he was relieved that she wasn't attempting to get away from him, so he agreed.

They said goodbye to the rest of the Puddlemere team and headed towards the Burrow. Only when it was too late did Oliver remember that he and Charlie had planned to meet here after the match, along with the rest of the Weasley family, to resume the search for Katie. He thought to warn her about this about the time they were approaching the Burrow, as most of the Weasley family was already pouring out to envelope Katie.

"Uh, did I miss something?" Katie asked as she was hugged forcefully by Molly Weasley.

"We've been worried sick about you!" Molly scolded. "How can you disappear on us like that again?"

Katie's face reddened. "I didn't mean to disappear," she muttered.

"What were you doing staying with Roger again?" Ginny demanded, grabbing Katie's hand.

Oliver watched, silent. He saw the look in Katie's eyes, watched the anger that flashed, knew that she wanted to tell Ginny to mind her own business, but as quickly as it was there, it was gone.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

Ginny threw her arms around Katie's neck. "How many times do I have to tell you," she said into the top of Katie's head, "that we love you. You are our family. Did you think we wouldn't notice that you were gone?"

Katie closed her eyes and shrugged. The crowd began to disperse back into the Burrow, Molly Weasley calling for everyone to sit for supper. Charlie caught up with Oliver on the way inside.

"Where has she been?" he asked.

"She showed up at the match," Oliver said. "I'd forgotten I'd sent her tickets."

Charlie grinned at him. "Thanks for bringing her home."`

Oliver laid awake once more that night, thinking about family. He wondered if having Katie in his life would mean that he would have the Weasleys in it too. He wondered if Katie even was in his life.

Dinner had been a boisterous affair. Molly fussed endlessly over Katie. Ginny shared her wedding plans with Hermione, who merely shrugged when asked about her plans for marriage. Ron and Harry made a show of having their mouths far to full of food to comment on these matters. Victoire was cooed over by anyone and everyone. Everyone seemed to know about Katie and Oliver's night after the wedding, and Charlie made a point to make them the butt of any lewd joke he could think up while Molly pretended not to notice. George and Angelina were still away on their honeymoon.

It was strange to him to think that only a few days ago none of this had happened yet. It was difficult for Oliver to wrap his mind around the fact that events that could alter the path you are on so drastically could take place in such a short amount of time.

At some point during dinner, Charlie had asked Katie where she was staying.

"She'll be staying here of course," Mrs. Weasley had replied without missing a beat. The look on Katie's face said otherwise, but Molly ignored it.

"I don't need to stay here, Molly," Katie replied firmly. Molly, who was piling more food onto Harry's plate, paid her no attention.

"You're too skinny," she informed him before turning back to Katie. "Well then tell me, dear, where are you staying?"

Katie bit her lip. It was a simple enough questions, but she had no answer to it. Oliver remembered her earlier comment. _I'm not a toddler_. For someone who didn't want to be taken care of or fussed over Katie, certainly gave the people who cared for her cause for concern.

"Actually," Oliver said offhandedly, surprising even himself. "I've offered Katie my spare room." There was a pause in which everyone took in the fact that Oliver had just undermined the Weasley matriarch. Oliver blinked, his own words swirling in his head. What was he saying?

Katie smiled. "Yes. I'm going to be staying with Oliver for a little while."

Molly cleared her throat. "Well that's just lovely," she said politely, clearly hurt.

Katie's face softened. "If I'm staying with Oliver, I'll be close by," she said kindly. "I can come over for dinner more often!"

Molly recovered quickly, and beamed at Katie. "It will be so wonderful to have you nearby again, dear."

Everyone was quick to voice their agreement.

Pulled from his thoughts, Oliver sat up upon hearing a soft knock in his door.

"Are you awake?" Katie asked meekly, pushing open the door. Belinda perked her head up.

Oliver nodded. Then, realizing that it was dark, he cleared his throat and said "Yes."

Katie crossed the small space between the door and the bed, then stopped short. "Do you mind if I..." she trailed off, unsure of how to word her request. It didn't matter anyway; Oliver understood.

"Sure," Oliver said, much more nonchalant in tone than in feeling. As he moved over and pulled back his blanket for her, he thought about the last time she was in his bed, and he wondered for the first time who had invited who there. He decided that now was not the time to ask.

Katie slid into bed next to him smoothly, as though she had done so a million times before. She lay on her back for a moment, an uncomfortable silence passing between them. Then, slowly, she rolled onto her side to face Oliver. Reaching for his arm, she wrapped it in both of her own, leaning her forehead on his shoulder. He stared up at the ceiling and lost track of time as he listened to her breath slow as she drifted off to sleep. At some point he realized that Belinda, annoyed, had gone in search of another place to sleep.

Turning his head slightly, Oliver noted that Katie's hair smelled faintly of coconut. Her cheek was warm and soft against his arm. Instinctively seeking warmth, her toes pressed themselves against his calves.

Around the time Oliver's arm fell asleep, so did he.

When Oliver opened his eyes, the first thing he became aware of was the fact that Katie's head had shifted from his shoulder to his chest, and their legs were now tangled together. Oliver closed his eyes again and, for a moment, imagined that the situation were different...

He didn't want to indulge these thoughts long however, so he opened his eyes and very gently and carefully removed himself from the bed without waking Katie. Making his way to the kitchen, he decided that it was as good a morning as any to learn to cook.

Katie was awoken by the sound of Oliver cursing loudly, and the first thing she was aware of was the smell of smoke. She rushed into the kitchen to see him yelling obscenities as a smoking pan - Merlin only knows what it had been before it was burnt beyond recognition.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing?" Katie cried, and Oliver swung around. His face turned a deep crimson as it dawned on him that he was caught in his ridiculous endeavor.

"I was making you breakfast," he confessed. "But breakfast didn't want to be made."

Katie paused for a moment, taking the scene in. Then she smiled slowly. The smile turned into a chuckle, and within seconds she was doubled over in a deep laughter that Oliver couldn't help but catch. They laughed until their sides hurt, and only when their laughter and the smoke in the air made it difficult to breathe did they stop.

"I bet you're wishing you had stayed at the Burrow right about now," Oliver said as he retrieved his wand to clear the air.

Katie just shook her head, still giggling, as she retreated into the living room.

"What would be so bad about staying at the Burrow?" Oliver asked.

Katie shook her head again, frowning this time. "They treat me like I'm made of glass. Molly is absolutely wonderful, but she fusses over me like I'm a child. I'm not a child," she finished, looking into Oliver's eyes. He wasn't sure what she meant by that, but it made him slightly uneasy.

"Well, you're welcome to stay here as long as you like," Oliver replied, and he was surprised to find that he meant it completely. Katie smiled at him and leaned to hug him. Oliver held out his arms to her.

Suddenly, boldly, Oliver changed his course. He kissed Katie.

Katie pulled back, but she didn't look angry. "Slow down there, Wood," she said. Smirking, she added, "Just because you're famous doesn't mean I'm going to keep ending up in bed with you."

Oliver hugged her, kissing the top of her head lightly. "We'll see," he mumbled, surprising himself once again. If he had been looking at Katie's face instead of resting his chin on top of her head, he would have seen her eyes sparkle once more.

 **Hey guys! I really hope you all are enjoying this story, but whether you are or not, your reviews help me grow as a writer! I only ask that criticism be constructive and not mean!**

 **By the way, I know this is a little random, but if anyone ever wants to talk HP or fanfiction or just writing in general, shoot me a PM! I'm always looking for people to speak nerd to :)**


	5. Chapter 5

A few hours after sharing an impromptu kiss with Katie bell, and in light of the recent series of events that Oliver was sure were stranger and more dramatic than the whole rest of his life put together, Oliver did as he was sure any ordinary, self respecting witch or wizard would do in his place. He went to work and pretended nothing had happened.

This worked for a few days. Oliver and Katie went through the motions of friendship. She was a decent enough flatmate. The night after their kiss, she had dinner ready when he arrived home from practice. They exchanged pleasantries and discussed things such as the weather and how their respective days had gone, but they had not yet broached the subject of Katie's destructive behavior or her plans for the immediate future.

Oliver felt that their situation was a time bomb, counting down. He threw himself into practice even more than he always had, if that were possible. The wind rushing past his ears was the only thing that kept away the proverbial ticking.

The harder Oliver pushed himself physically, the easier it was to ignore the mental strain of caring about someone. With every successfully executed pass, Oliver's mind was further and further from the feeling of Katie's breath hot on his arm as she slept beside him. Every time he blocked a shot, Oliver was less and less aware that Charlie and Katie had been intimate. With every blow of Armand's whistle, Oliver forgot one more second of his time spent on Roger Davies' porch.

The thought hit him like a bolt of lightning: this was what Katie needed.

He remembered learning once that Katie was an orphan. The summer after her fourth year, the year that Oliver had graduated, both of Katie's parents were tragically killed. It was an accident of some sort, he thought, but perhaps that was simply because he couldn't remember for sure. He wondered vaguely how anyone had ever let him get away with being such a lousy friend.

Angelina had written him from time to time that year, to ask for advice or keep him updated on the team. He had rarely written back, of course, being as encompassed by Quidditch as he ever was. Looking back, though, one thing struck him about Angelina's letters.

 _It's harder than ever to get Katie to come back to Earth,_ she had written once, and Oliver remembered dismissing it as a reminder of Katie's passion. _I've never seen her fly like this_ , another letter had read. _You should really see it._ Oliver wondered now if Katie, like himself, used flying as an escape.

He wondered what he would become if he stopped flying, and suddenly Katie's erratic behavior seemed less difficult to understand.

On his way home, Oliver decided that it was time that he and Katie removed the pin from the the discussion they needed to have. If she was going to stay with him for any length of time, he needed answers. He was entitled to them, or so he tried to convince himself. He wasn't prying, merely expressing concern.

Opening the door to his flat, Oliver was met immediately by the sight of Belinda standing on the side table next to his sofa, fur sticking straight up in the air and back arched, hissing. Turning his head, he witnessed Katie staring back at the feline, her eyes wide and he hand gripping a bowl of cat food.

Oliver was quick to intervene. Grabbing the bowl from Katie, he beckoned her into the kitchen.

"You have to mix it with gravy," he explained. "Or she won't touch it."

Katie stared at him, mouth agape. "It's no wonder she looks as though she's expecting kittens any day now," she said. Oliver ignored her, so she persisted. "That can't possibly be good for her."

Oliver shrugged. "She's nineteen years old, or so the veterinarian I'm told, and counting. When I found her, she was eating from the rubbish bin behind Sugarplum's Sweets. If that didn't kill her, I doubt anything will."

Katie just shook her head in awe as she watched Oliver mix Belinda's food and present it to her. "You spoil her," she said, although it was such an obvious thing to state that Oliver merely chuckled.

Katie made to head for the guest room - her room - but Oliver cleared his throat. She turned back around to face him, and he was momentarily caught off guard by her piercing green eyes looking at him so expectantly. He nearly forgot what he had wanted to say to her.

"Katie, why don't you fly anymore?"

The question spilled out, quicker and much less tactfully than Oliver had hoped. For a few seconds it hung in the air between them.

"I can't," Katie replied instinctively. Oliver could see in her eyes that she instantly wished she could take it back.

"Can't?" Oliver repeated dumbly.

"You remember when I was cursed," Katie explained. It wasn't a question. News of the accident had traveled through Hogwarts and beyond, a warning tale repeated by parents and a dramatic bit of gossip between Hogwarts alumnus. Oliver nodded, his head struggling to connect the incident with Katie giving up what was, he knew, her passion. It was something they had always shared.

"I couldn't fly after that," she told him. "I tried, but the results were disastrous. I could barely even stay on the broom."

"So you quit," Oliver finished for her, and though he didn't say it to be mean, the brutal honesty of the statement caused Katie to stiffen.

"I couldn't do it anymore," she revised tersely.

"And you stopped trying," Oliver added. Oliver was not a cruel person at heart, but he was stubborn, and it was often viewed in the same way. "You stopped trying to fly at the time when you needed it most."

"Do you think I wouldn't kill to fly again?" Katie retorted hotly. "Do you think I don't dream about it? _I can't_ ," she repeated through clenched teeth. Oliver could see that she was struggling to keep her temper in check, and Oliver was suddenly, finally able to see in her the young woman she had been at Hogwarts. For reasons he could not explain to himself, bringing out the passionate anger that he could now remember so well was suddenly very, very important.

"Prove it," he challenged, a dangerous smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Prove to me that you can't fly and I'll drop it."

Katie reared back as though Oliver had slapped her. "Prove it?" she repeated. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

Oliver strode over to the hall cupboard and retrieved the old broom that he kept for personal use. "Come fly with me," he said recklessly.

"Merlin, Wood, we aren't at school anymore!" Katie argued fiercely. "You aren't my captain. I don't have to prove anything to you!" She was steadily increasing in volume, and her last statement was loud and shrill. He didn't miss the sudden use of his surname, just as she had called him in school.

Oliver stared at her calmly. "Then why do you want to so badly?"

Katie sputtered for a moment, but she could produce no satisfactory answer. "Fine."

And so it was that, a short time later, Katie and Oliver found themselves on the Puddlemere United practice pitch. Oliver thought that there was no better place for Katie to rediscover her love of flying than on a professional pitch, something he knew she had dreamed of since childhood.

Katie clutched at Oliver's broom so fiercely that her knuckles whitened.

"You're going to feel guilty if I seriously injure myself," Katie muttered as they stared across the pitch.

"I never did before," Oliver retorted, but this was a lie, and Katie knew it. As Gryffindor captain, Oliver, rightfully or not, had always felt that he bore the responsibility for his team members' injuries. "Now get up there, Bell."

Oliver waited for a dramatic sigh or an eye roll, but none came from Katie. She stared straight ahead as she straddled the broomstick, awkwardly, as though for the first time. After a moment, however, she relaxed.

"Now, fly," Oliver commanded, and once more he was her captain.

Katie's first attempt ended mere feet from where it had begun. The broom made an ungraceful nosedive into the ground, and Katie toppled over the front of it. Oliver hadn't seen anyone so unsteady on a broomstick since he had been a guest trainer at a Quidditch camp for eleven-year-olds the summer before. Wordlessly, he grasped her arm, pulled her up, and pushed the broom hard back into her hand.

Glaring at him, Katie tried again.

Her second attempt didn't get her much father. It began to rain.

"Are we done here?" Katie spat. Ashamed, she would not meet Oliver's eyes, so her gaze burned holes in his chest.. She held the broom out to him, but he simply stared down at her, his expression unreadable, until her arm fell limply to her side. "What?"

"You're giving up again," he noted.

"Did you not see that? That train wreck?" Katie yelled, her mouth wide as though she simply could not comprehend Oliver's stupidity. "I keep telling you: I can't fly anymore!"

Oliver shook his head. "I saw you fly. Granted, not very far or particularly well, but I saw you fly just now. And then I saw you improve on the second go. I don't know why you're lying to yourself, but you can't lie to me."

Katie made a noise of frustration in the back of her throat. With Oliver watching her, she straddled the broom again and proceeded to nosedive once again.

"You're focusing on your anger," Oliver reprimanded Katie, "instead of letting it drive your focus on flying. Try again."

This time, before taking off, Katie took several deep breaths as she hovered above the ground. Taking off, she lasted several more feet than the previous attempt before spinning out of control and crashing to the ground shoulder-first.

Oliver could tell that her arm was going to be bruised and sore in the morning, He though, in the back of his mind, that perhaps he was pushing her too hard. Perhaps they should stop. But he pushed those thoughts out of his mind.

"Again," he commanded, once she had picked herself up off the ground, bruised and muddy.

This went on for an amount of time that is impossible to be sure of, as both Oliver and Katie felt that they had been at it for the entire night, when in reality it was probably only a few hours. At the end of it, Katie was caked in mud from head to toe, her hair was in sopping wet knots, and she was covered in scrapes, scratches, and bruises. She remained silent for the better part of the endeavor.

Suddenly, after dozens of failures, Katie seemed to catch a momentary rhythm. For a moment, she flew as she used to. She felt the wind buzzing past her ears and she felt as though if she flew fast enough, she could out-fly the rain. She executed a decent enough turn and followed the curve of the pitch. After about fifteen seconds, with Oliver whooping and hollering beneath her, Katie miscalculated, slipped, and smashed into the stands.

Oliver didn't care that she had crashed. His heart welled up as Katie walked towards him, her expression unreadable. He yelled out praise and he felt as though he could cry from the very excitement of it.

Katie reached him and, still without a word, shoved his broom so hard against his chest that his hands shot out instinctively to grab it. She glared at him only for a fraction of a second before striding off. He watched silently as she disappeared from the pitch.

Oliver considered going after her, but then he thought that perhaps he had chased her enough in the past few days. With a sudden sense of wisdom that didn't feel like his own, he decided that he could only chase Katie so much before she had to make the decision to be caught up with.

He went home.

 **Hey everyone! I really, really hope that you guys enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always though, criticism is encouraged if it is constructive and not mean! After I had the idea to put Katie back on a broomstick, this chapter sort of wrote itself, because this all felt like such a natural part of this storyline. We've seen Katie and Oliver as old friends catching up, but now I think they are past that. I really wanted a glimpse of that old captain and chaser relationship between them, in a way that could factor in a little taste of the "big reveals" that we all know are coming up. Let me know what you think!**


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